One From Me
by Forever the Uke
Summary: Nobody had seen hide or hair of him for an entire month and here he is, battered and bruised and wearing that stupid parka. They all had more then a few words for the man but there was one person in particular who was going to be an almighty challenge to gain forgiveness from. With a swollen lip, cheek and eye, is there any chance of Kanda charming his way out of this situation?


**Busy, busy, so very busy! Finish college, straight onto University preparation, work throughout summer (daytime and evening jobs), take siblings to school, handle driving lessons and work experience and still find time for writing. Woooo! I'm magic bitches!**

**So a very warm hello to all my chums out there! I have another story here, all done and dusted and just to remind you I don't plan to upload _anything_ until it's completely finished. So 'Blogging' lovers may be waiting for a while. Again, I'm so sorry guys! I've been on the receiving end of this so many times but there's really nothing I can do about it. But if it's any consolation my love goes to you all. Really. It does.**

**So, please read and review all my chums! You usually do and I love you all for it! **

**Enjoy and see you later!**

* * *

The day he came back it was grey. The sky was like soup, thick and stirring. In some places it was charred, black crumbs and pepper, streaked across the greyness. A foreboding feeling hung heavy.

Earlier in the day the roads had been a catalogue of cars, masses of mechanical beasts spluttering along the mouth of the road. When he arrived it was almost closing time. The occasional stray car wandered the roads, separated from the earlier flock. He discussed himself under the hood of his worn thin parka; the flimsy fabric clinging to his lanky frame. He was tired. He was beaten. Broken, perhaps?

She noticed the figure first. She always did.

Her mascaraed leashes squinted, trying to home in on the silhouette hovering outside. The other dug through the parka, pulling out a well-worn tin. His hand beckoned her outside as it lifted a cigarette to its owner's mouth.

Kanda.

No-one jutted there thumb out and threw it over their shoulder like he did, stupid arrogant prick that he was.

She all but leapt from the chair, coat and bag in tow, gargling excuses to the others. The three men watched, bewildered and slightly bristled, as their lone flower split from the group. She ordered the one-eyed protector down. "I will be perfectly fine," she repeated, words nailing the man to the floor.

She strode with confidence across the empty floors of the closed pub, mind rehearsing one of her many pre-planned scoldings. She wanted to be angry. She wanted venom filled words to lash out at him, hurt him. And then she would reach up and heal him. Thread her tiny arms round his shoulders like she had done throughout the years. She would ground him to the town, forbidding him from doing _anything_ like this ever again. She couldn't cope if it happened again. She really couldn't.

"Be safe Lena Lady!"

Lavi broke the silence.

Lenalee looked out the window again. At the man. Her childhood friend. Her messed up, battered and broken best friend. Leant against the window, fag hanging from his thin lips, waiting for her company.

She pushed the door open.

The hood tilted towards her, wisps of smokes danced from the weltering cigarette. She demanded he put it out. Before anything the little cancerous stick had to be extinguished. He obliged to the order, spitting the stub from his mouth and crushing it beneath his boot. "Nothing's changed then," his cool voice was unusually warm. Half-baked. "Good to be back."

She smacked him. She let her closed fist meet the hood of his stupid parker. She didn't hold back. The right hand first, slamming into his head, then the left. The left hand was different. It flew towards him with as much anger and malicious intent as the right. She bought it to his hooded head and threw it down. Softer. Much softer than before. Patting his head, her eyes filled. Overflowing as her voice crumbled and the words crawled from her mouth.

"You left us."

It was a fact. A bitter true truth. An almighty thorn in her side.

"You left us and you-you," she hiccupped and snorted as tears leaked from every available space, "you didn't do _a-anything_. Not a thing, nothing, no phone call, no text." The Parka remained frozen; the man hiding inside it said nothing. "See! Nothing!" She retreated slightly, removing herself from the view of the men the pub contained. "You can't even make up an excuse. You just-just _sit_ there, with your stupid fucking coat with your stupid fucking hood up," she was shouting now. The street was now crammed with her words. Scorching hot and lethal as they hissed at the man.

She was bubbling over. Her frustration. Her anger. Her pain. The concoction of emotions were blistering and reaching boiling point. She lurched forwards. Hands fisting the hood and wrenching it from his head.

And she saw it.

His cheek. His eye. His lip.

"Oh my god," she gasped, the words falling flat as the air was heaved from her sails. "Oh my god," she repeated, "my god." His lip was cracked, a dark crimson rust holding it together, but he still managed a wry smile. She let her mouth flop open and close, eyes dragging over his tattered face. "What… what _happened_ to you?" He didn't say anything. "Kanda please, _please_," she didn't care if she was begging; she'd squatted in front of the man, not caring if her dress had risen a bit too high. Not caring how her knees hurt. How her feet hurt.

"Don't worry 'bout it," his half-baked voice mumbled, "It's fine now. Doesn' hurt much." He'd pulled the hood back up, shielding his black and blue face from the world. "How is everyone?" he went on. He ignored her pained expression, the familiar throbbing of his face. "Anything happened this month?"

"Worrying. Lots and lots of worrying." She'd stood up, pulling the skimpy dress down to a modest length. "Why don't you come in? Tyki can get you a drink, may do you some good. I know Alma and Lavi are dying to get you into a loving headlock as they pretend they haven't been fretting about you," she was trying. She deserved credit for that. She looked on the brink of sobbing, her chest waivered and her words were coming out short and jagged as her chest heaved air in and out. "Please Kanda, just come inside, we're worried."

Lenalee took Kanda's hand and tried to take him inside, but before anything the man turned away and spat some blood and saliva at the floor. A mumbled explanation followed, he'd re-opened one of the cut inside his mouth. Lenalee pulled at his hand again but Kanda was stubborn and he removed to move from his place against the wall.

"Don't be worried, I'm fine."

"Kanda, please, just come inside-"

"It's only bruising, it's nothing."

"Don't you dare Kanda, stop being an asshole and get in there!"

Then there was nothing for a while. No speaking. No shouting. No glaring. Just waiting. For something, one of them to give in, one of the trio from inside the long forgotten pub to storm out and join the argument.

None of this happened.

Lenalee just let out a cry of frustration, pounding a fist on the man's chest and his stupid parka. "I really hate this side of you," she started. "You're so bloody stubborn Kanda, we want to help you."

The man regarded her with a look, an awfully strange look. He looked perplexed, like he couldn't understand _why_ someone wanted to help so much. But, at the same time, he looked like he did understand, like he understood her frustration and sympathized with her. He was acting very strange indeed. With his weird looks and mysterious injuries.

Such a stupid man, she drawled in her head, so very _stupid_.

"You're stupid and you're stubborn and you're too violent. You have anger problems and relationship problems. You don't put yourself out there enough, you give up too easily and you complain too much." She sighed and dropped her head against his shoulder. "You stink of cigarettes too much to," she added, noise pinching at the thick nicotine haze the clung to the man and his parka.

His voice was so very wry as he thanked her for her blatant show of affection. She just laughed and clung to the man, hoping her embrace was some form of comfort in the least. Not that the comfort lasted long. Not even five minutes had passes when she heard a voice that hadn't entered he thought process once during the entire situation with Kanda.

"Hey, hey Lenalee, how's this guy?" came the forever chipper chirp of the only group member un-accounted for. She felt Kanda freeze and stiffen significantly. She heard him click his tongue and swear and she watched as he pulled the hood up a little further.

She untangled herself and admitted to herself that she felt _very_ uncomfortable.

"Allen," she startled, "Allen you'll never guess-" she didn't finish. The words died in her throat at the sight of his face. Somewhat elated yet somewhat devastated. A very odd combination. One she had never seen the happy man display before.

He'd seen him.

She snuck a glance at the hooded man behind her. Kanda, he looked guilty. Much more than he had in regards to her.

Strange.

Or was it?

It wasn't. Not really, she decided. It was clear that their relationship was more layered then everyone had presumed it to be. Allen had been diluted in Kanda's absence. A wishy-washy replica of his usual bright and perky self, to say the least, that is.

"I'll have to see you later Lenalee," Allen chirped. "Places to be and all that." His mask, however chipped it was getting, still held firm as he smiled a wooden smile at the small female.

Nothing was directed at the Parka.

Be it a glance, glare or smile.

No greeting, no distaste, no anger.

No acknowledgment.

The man bid his farewell, pulling his duffle coat in tighter, tying the scarf round his neck snugger. She nodded and stared shocked at the Parka. Again, Kanda smiled wryly. He squished his cigarette, breathed deeply in and scratched beneath his hood. He also bid his farewell, his croaky voice a result of the cigarette and his dissatisfaction at the pale man's response to his long awaited presence. Well, that's what Lenalee had deducted at least. As the two walked off in their own directions, Lenalee stood in the middle, as she'd always been in the past.

All he heard was a crescendo of heels meeting the pavement. Then there was a tug on the back of his coat.

"Do you like him?" Lenalee whispered, finally catching up.

"Do you?"

He sounded almost worried at the possibility.

He wasn't even hiding it anymore.

Lenalee paused for a moment. "I think he's a gentleman, totally adorable and a giant pain in the arse at times. So yeah, I like him, love him, like I do you and the others." Kanda let out a breath he'd been subconsciously holding.

"Me too."

The man in question was getting further and further away from them.

"Quick Kanda," Lenalee said. A glimmer of knowing deep in her dark eyes, "you've fallen behind."

Yet just as he went to catch the runaway male, Lenalee grasped him one final time. With a surprisingly harsh pull, she bought Kanda's hooded head to her own. Pulling it down and bringing her mouth to his ear she relinquished what important information she'd held. Before he could speak she embraced him, laying a soft kiss on his forehead and replacing his hood. Kanda pulled her close and thanked her with as much gusto as he could manage in his state. And as he attempted a run to the out of sight target, he heard her, rather mortifying, words of encouragement.

She'd bellowed down the road, "Give him one from me!"

And it took all he had not to laugh.

He ran, well, jogged on order to catch up.

It didn't take long. He followed him.

He wouldn't call it stalking because he damn well knew Allen knew he was behind him. But we would admit it was bordering desperate. Kanda reached for the worn cigarette tin contained within his parka and pulled a lighter from his back pocket.

Kanda swore Allen had the nose of a bloodhound.

Allen slammed his brakes and it surprised Kanda to say the least. Even more so when he spun on the ball of his foot, scarf untying slightly with the action and stormed towards the man. He got so close Kanda would have gulped if not for the light cigarette in his mouth. Allen reached forwards and plucked said stick from his mouth, flicking it to the floor and crushing it with his converse.

"I thought you'd quit," he spat and he turned away, continuing his previous strides. Kanda didn't struggle to catch up this time.

"I've been stressed lately," he snapped lightly, urked that this was the first thing they'd be discussing after a month.

"Poor you Kanda, really, not like we've been stressed or anything."

Kanda muttered too loud for the distance between the two. "God you're a little bitch at times."

Allen's mask was chipping, splintering and all but about to combust with his quickly developing anger. "You have no will power, no sense, no manners and for fucks sake would you just piss off!" He wasn't sure what he'd said but Kanda had slowed slightly so Allen took advantage and quickened his pace.

Ten minutes and serious powerwalking led him to the local park, where he plonked himself down on one of the swing sets and sighed. He was amazed he still had his lukewarm coffee in his hands, surprised he hadn't thrown the once scolding beverage in the assholes face.

When Kanda finally entered the park he caught site of Allen. Hard to miss a white haired grown male swinging on swings at almost two in the morning but that was beside the point. Kanda worked his way across the park, swearing about how cold it was to himself. Allen didn't acknowledge him when he reached him. And neither spoke for some time.

Allen remained swinging, sipping the coffee whenever he could, Kanda watched from his perch on a nearby bench.

The silence got to him eventually.

When he finally spoke it was barely audible, "I am sorry." It startled the man on the swings to say the least. "I meant to, y'know, phone or somethin'," he was mumbling slightly now. The fuzzy words squeezing from his broken lips were barely audible to the frozen man stuck to the swings. "Just I was busy-"

Allen didn't give him time to finish.

"Busy? You were busy? A fuckin' month Kanda, a month. And what? You were _busy?_" Allen paused his slight swinging. Rooting himself so he could let fire further. "You know I actually told myself that this would happen, right back when this-this," he struggled, grasping for the right words, "whatever _this _is, started." He snorted, looking at the soupy sky, watching as the brew thickened, bubbling till burnt. "Before you left, just before you left, I was thinking, 'Hey, this could _actually_ work, me an' you that is' and you know what you did? You fuckin' ran. Just like everyone else." He chuckled at himself, throwing his head back, clinging to the metal chains suspending the swing seat. "I knew I was right. You're a coward," he accused, "a giant fuckin' coward Kanda. A coward and I actually liked you." The words were quieter now, but still just a hot. He threw his empty cellophane cup at the Parka's feet. "I really liked you and you just-just," he struggled to find the words, using his hands to emphasis the unspoken ending.

_Killed it._

There was an excruciating pause. In which Allen reloaded verbal ammunition and Kanda nursed developing wounds. Tried to at least. The man in the parka edged forwards and picked up the cup. He was battered and beaten up, new wounds, atop the present ones. Allen could see it on what little face was exposed. Blood leaked from his nose and licked at his lips. His eyes had blackened further. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of his silk skin. All from the words. From Allen's words.

He had to bite back the apology.

He really did.

"I can't make amends for leaving you," Kanda spoke up, attention focused on picking apart the abandoned cellophane cup. "But I can tell you it was well justified-"

Allen prickled at the mere suggestion of it being _justified_. His reaction was predicted, he yelled and swore and threw his limps angrily towards Kanda and his '_justified_' reasoning. Kanda waited and waited until he had finished, or at least paused.

"If not justified then it was for a purpose," it seemed no matter the words Kanda chose, Allen thought it to be bullshit. "Would you just _shut up_ Allen!" He spoke, his words loud but not angry. Tired, if anything.

His throat was itching for a cigarette.

The pale man simmered, falling silent as he pushed himself backwards on the swing, rocking to and thro. After a short while, Kanda also made an attempt at telling the truth. "I went home, to my home town, the old man phoned me, the day I," he struggled.

Allen filled the gap. "Ran."

"Before I left," the parka corrected pointedly, walking to the neighbouring bin to dispose of the cellophane corpse he'd created.

His body wracked as he sighed heavily, pulling his hood down for the first time in order to cautiously rub a hand over his face. So tired, he thought. Allen watched from his seat on the swing, the seat had long since stopped swinging. He'd watched as Kanda sighed, pulling back his hood.

Allen hadn't seen the full range of the man's injuries. He felt his chest tighten and his own face ache with sympathy for the man. Holy shit to say the least. It looked as if someone had slipped half a tennis ball under the man's eye socket, painting it with a thick layer of purply-green. His cheek had a huge black flower of bleeding under the skin; you could see where a fist had connected to the man's cheekbone. Was it broken? It certainly seemed a possibility. His lip wasn't easy to look at either; cracks were caked full with dried blood and bruising. It was wicked.

He looked like he'd been on the losing side of a street brawl.

Kanda had taken the neighbouring swing while Allen assessed his injuries. "My brother got into some serious trouble," Kanda started to swing while he spoke. "I'm talking serious gang slash police involvement here. Way in over his head, no idea what the hell he was getting into."

"And you did?"

A small, slightly comfortable silence grew between the two while Kanda thought of how to respond. Allen let his mind wonder in the meantime. The silence reminding him of how the two weren't the most vocal of… of what? Of a pair? A couple? Were they classified as one? A couple? What they were certainly wasn't a friendship, that was certain. What they did, what they had, he certainly didn't have with Lavi. Nor with Tyki or Alma or even Lenalee. Whatever it was they did have was exclusively between them. And he liked it; he liked having something with this man. This battered man who left the bathroom light on, who slept on the right side of his bed, who always intertwined their legs in the middle of the night. The man who had a quick temper but knew just the right way to get on Allen's good side, who knew to add an extra sugar to the amount asked for when making him a tea, who knew that when he startles awake in the middle of the night, panting and sweaty from reoccurring nightmares to just remain still, letting Allen cuddle into him for support, not to force in onto him..

This man who was bruised and bloody and more than likely dead on his feet, yet still stayed beside him, in some desolate park, on a pair of tatty swings in the early hours of the morning.

Kanda hauled him out of his daydreams. "I know more than he does, that's for sure. That's why I left. He was missing, well, we thought he was." He'd ceased swinging, instead resting his head against the cool iron chains holding him up. "Police didn't do shit, figured once a trouble maker always a trouble maker. Fucking useless little shits, all of 'em. We found the kid half fucking dead. Course we got jumped too. I may not be the smartest person out there," he threw a glare as Allen snorted at the comment, "but I do know how gangs work."

The mood that had just sprouted was slashed mercifully.

"I know what they do to a grass. I get why the old man was so fucking skits at Daisya, the kid fucking rolls in trouble. It's relentless. That's why the fact that the old man phoned me meant that I had to get there quick. He was actually scared, old man is _never_ scared. _Never_." He paused, leaning in on himself sighing. "Why I 'ran' as you claim."

Allen just looked at the man. What was he meant to say to that? Was there anything he could say? He wouldn't just forgive him. Wouldn't just go, 'Oh alright then, you leave without a word for a month without a single word, but seeing as it was for your family it totally fine.'

Okay yes, he should say that.

He should.

But he couldn't.

He refused to get over how the man just up and left. It terrified him. Really it did. Allen was terrified that he'll wake up again with an empty bed. No note. No phone call. No text. No nothing. He didn't know what they were, whether they were bound to one another, dating or fucking. He didn't know. But did it matter? What he did know was that he cared about this beaten and broken man. Him vanishing made Allen quickly realise how involved Kanda was in his life. And It was the same for Kanda too.

When it came down to it that was all that mattered.

He would forgive Kanda for tonight; he would take him home and heal him. Then, tomorrow, he'd crack down on his arse so hard he won't know what hit him.

With this thought in mind Allen rose from his seat. He placed himself directly in front the damaged man. This beautiful, feminine featured, black and blue man. This foul mouthed man that meant a scarily large amount to Allen.

Kanda beat him to it.

Kanda slipped his hands inside Allen's duffle coat, circling the man's warm waist and pulling him forwards, nuzzling the man's scarf covered neck. "I really am sorry," his voice was once again cool, not half-baked, not broken or pitiful. His voice was cool a crisp, cocky with a little warmth reserved for Allen and Allen only.

Said slightly coloured man pushed Kanda away gently, cradling his beaten face in his gloved palms. "You're stupid," he mumbled, ghosting a kiss on the mans bruised cheekbone. "You're arrogant," another kiss planted on the tennis ball eye socket. "You're an asshole," this time the centre of his forehead. "You're not completely forgiven," Allen hovered over bloodied lips, "but you're pretty close."

Kanda growled as he closed the gap, lips softly meeting, caressing one another, over and over. Allen wasn't surprised to find Kanda gripping his lower lip between his teeth; it did however send a flurry of shivers down his back, the sensation causing him to gasp. Never one to miss an opportunity Kanda slipped his tongue inside the warm cavern, scouring every nook with his tongue. Allen already buttery muscles seemed next to useless as he relied on Kanda's hold on his waist.

Bastard had to audacity to snort.

"You git," Allen murmured against the man's damaged lips. He thread his arms round Kanda's neck, sucking Kanda's damaged lip, his tongue darting out to lick at the wound. It had the desired effect as he felt Kanda shiver, tightening his grip round Allen's waist, fingers slipping ever so innocently under his top. "No, no, no," he pleaded breathlessly.

"Jus' a lil'," Kanda mumbled, biting Allen's lip, then his cheek. Allen felt his nerves come alight at the ministrations, the pain and pleasure sickeningly delightful and running straight to his groin. The nips and kisses migrated to his jaw, trailing along and Kanda all but ripped the scarf from the pale man's neck, slipping it beneath his leg as his returned his attention to the man's delectable skin.

"Kanda please," Allen whined, slipping his own arms beneath the man's parka, trying to refrain himself from bucking into his chest. Too good, far too good he thought. He pulled himself away, not looking at Kanda's face as he muttered those long awaited words.

"H-home, let's go home. We'll finish at home."


End file.
